


Canon

by janemac24



Series: Fic-ception Saga [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Inspired by Fanfiction, Shade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janemac24/pseuds/janemac24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Endgame." Emma and Regina continue to flail over Gin and Sal's kiss with the rest of the Marisol Mendez fandom. Meanwhile, they're also starting to flail over each other, but life isn't a fairytale, and relationships don't come easily to either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Canon" is a sequel to "Endgame," which you should probably read first if you want to understand what this is about. It starts exactly where "Endgame" left off. The Marisol Mendez series and related characters belong to amycarey (from "Down the Rabbit Hole") and the OUaT characters belong to ABC. Thank you, Aimee, for letting me use your creations again, and a special thanks to Onella, who deserves a gold star and possibly sainthood for letting me vent and send her angsty snippets at all hours.
> 
> Slight warning for cancer mentions, which are very brief and not part of the current plot.
> 
> Also, just to clarify: when they are texting, messages from Emma are bold and messages from Regina are bold and italic.

_Marisol got into the cab of the truck and Gin started the motor. Then, she stopped and leapt from the cab. “Since I won’t remember,” she said and she pulled Sal towards her and kissed her. “I love you, Salbatora Mendez,” she said as Mom stood stunned, touching her lips.  
\-- 'Dark Heart' by Amy Carey_

***

"Oh my god! Emma, I can't believe it. I really can't believe it! All this time, we thought it would never happen, and here it is! It's canon. I always knew we were right to have hope! Have you been on Tumblr yet? It's going  _nuts_ , and -- are you even listening to me?"

Emma manages to nod without looking away from her phone screen, only half-focused on Mary Margaret's babbling. "Yup," she lies, smirking to herself at Regina's latest text.

**_I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I think I'm dreaming and I have to check the book again and make sure this is real._ **

**it's real, or if ur dreaming then i'm definitely dreaming with u,** Emma types in reply

Honestly, this whole night's felt like a dream, from the noise and adrenaline of the release party, to the... well, she can't even describe the feeling. All in one night, her OTP became canon and she met red_honeycrisp.

_The_ red_honeycrisp. Recipient of both her most vengeful and most affectionate thoughts for the past couple of weeks -- no, more like months. She's real and she's hot as hell and her name is Regina and Emma actually met her.

And not just a meeting, either. They had definitely shared a moment, right? She's not just making that up. It was that feeling people talk about where you meet someone for the first time and there's this sense when you look into their eyes that you'd known them for eternity. She's never believed in that before -- soulmates or whatever -- just assumed people were making it up to sell their crappy romance plots. But now...

Well, she's getting ahead of herself: red_honeycrisp isn't her  _soulmate,_ for crying out loud. Maybe it just feels like they know each other since they've spent so much time talking online. What does she even know about this woman besides --

Her phone vibrates in her hand, and she jumps, practically launching herself off the couch.

**_If it's a dream, it's one I never want to end. This whole night has been magical._ **

"Who are you texting?" Mary Margaret demands, evidently puzzled by the manic grin on Emma's face.

Emma hesitates before responding. Mary Margaret would be thrilled, she knows. She's pretty sure her roommate is responsible for the red_honeycrisp fan site that's materialized in the last couple of weeks. She's reblogged every single "Shadowed Heart" manip and recommends it every couple of days in case there's anyone in the fandom who's somehow missed out on the constant hype and gets their information from mmb_snow (42 followers at last count, although red_honeycrisp_superfans is pushing 200). But there's something that stops her, whether it's jealousy or selfishness or maybe just a protective instinct. "red_honeycrisp" may be the biggest name in the Virgin Savior fandom, but for now, Emma wants to keep "Regina" to herself.

"Oh, you know," she says vaguely, "just talking to your favorite writer ever."

"But you're my favorite writer ever," protests Mary Margaret, her eyes so wide and earnest that Emma drops her phone and bursts out laughing.

Once she's finally gotten herself under control, she shakes her head at her roommate and says, "You're crazy. I'm going to sleep."

Mary Margaret stares, mouth agape. "How can you sleep at a time like this?" she exclaims. "The world is on fire right now! Don't you want to be part of it?"

"I  _was_  part of it," Emma says with a shrug. "And I have to work tomorrow. Actually, today," she corrects, checking her watch, "in, like, four hours." Apparently, attending the midnight release of a children's book isn't a good enough excuse to switch her shift. Mary Margaret offers her a sympathetic glance and turns back to her laptop. Emma grabs some earplugs before going to her room: Mary Margaret will probably giggle at pictures of cosplayers all night, with her shrill little laugh that makes Emma's head throb. 

Her phone buzzes with another text from Regina.

**_Well, goodnight, Emma. Thank you for humoring me tonight._ **

**humoring? i am right with you fangirling like a lunatic.** **anyway, sweet dreams!**

_**You too. Let's talk again soon.** _

Emma reads Regina's last message  three times before she turns off the light, practically beaming. She probably won't sleep well tonight. She may not sleep at all. But she's not sure it matters at this point: this has been the best night of her life.

 

***

 

On Monday, Regina leaves work early and meets Henry as he gets off the bus. "How was school, sweetheart?" she asks, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He lets her keep it there for about half a second before shrugging it off, and she bites her lower lip and tries to pretend it doesn't hurt. He's at that age; she knows it doesn't mean anything.

"School was okay," he says. "Why are you home?"

"No reason," she replies quickly -- perhaps too quickly, "I just wanted to see you. I wanted to be sure you were alright." Her voice cracks at the end of the sentence, causing Henry to stop dead in his tracks, and Regina sighs at her inability to keep her emotions in check. She's been anxious since she he left the house this morning: ever since the initial euphoria had worn off and the news of Gin and Sal's kiss had reached the general media, she's been watching everyone's reactions with bated breath, particularly where "concerned parents" are involved. It's not that she isn't thrilled to see a same-sex relationship in mainstream children's literature -- the very thought of it makes what's left of her heart swell with joy -- but this is a conservative town, and she knows the darker side of humanity all too well.

"Mom, what's wrong?" he demands.

"Nothing's wrong. I just... I missed you."

He stares her down and she marvels at the fact that he seems to have grown two inches over the weekend. "Really? Because you never leave work early unless... unless something bad happened."

"Oh, Henry, no! It's nothing like that!" Regina immediately exclaims. She pulls him into her arms (this time he stays) and forces herself to close her eyes and count to ten as hot tears start to prickle behind her eyes. The last time she met him at the bus stop was the day Daniela's cancer was declared terminal. The time before that was when his grandfather died. She should have anticipated this -- she  _would_  have anticipated this, if she hadn't been so distracted by fandom excitement and controversy all weekend.

"So you're okay?" he questions, tugging out of her embrace to look her over for any visible injuries.

"Perfectly fine." She forces a watery smile and explains, "I just... I know there's been a lot of uproar about the whole 'gay moms' thing in the latest Marisol book, and I was worried you might have... I mean, I know the kids at school..."

Thankfully, he seems to figure out what she's trying to say, since she's apparently not capable of forming coherent sentences and holding back tears at the same time. Taking her hand as they resume their walk, he says, "No one was mean to me, if that's what you're wondering. Miss Blanchard wants me to give a presentation, though."

"A presentation?" Regina asks, her brow furrowed in confusion. "You mean a book report?"

"Sort of. She wants me to talk about having two moms. And, like, seeing your family in a book."

"I see," she says carefully, studying his face to decide how to react. He seems shaken by their misunderstanding, but otherwise fine. Regina, however, feels her fists clench in indignant rage. Has Miss Blanchard never heard of boundaries? She and Dani had always encouraged Henry to be open with his friends, to ensure that their family life was never a source of shame for him, but there's a difference between openness and painting a giant, rainbow-colored target on her son's back. Does Miss Blanchard not realize she could be putting Henry in danger? "And what did you tell her?"

Henry shrugs and replies, "I told her I'd think about it."

"How do you think your classmates would react?"

"We've been in the same class since first grade," he reminds her. "They all know you and Mamá."

"Right," Regina says, closing her eyes as she exhales, "so what's there to present about? There's not much you could tell them that they don't already know."

"I'm still thinking about it," he says, and that's the end of that.

 

***

 

After dinner, Regina locks herself in the study, ready to give Ms. Blanchard a piece of her mind. The rational part of her brain tells her it's not worth it, that Henry's classmates are nice kids and even if a few of them aren't, he's strong and resilient and proud of their little family. However, it's a different side of her that takes control as she punches the teacher's number into her phone, fingers trembling with rage.

"Hello, you've reached Mary Margaret Blanchard," her unwitting victim says, voice high and uncertain. It's a wonder the fourth graders don't rip her to shreds, Regina thinks, cracking her knuckles.

"Miss Blanchard, this is Regina Mills, Henry's mother," she growls. Miss Blanchard starts to respond -- something along the lines of "how are you?" -- but Regina forges on, uninterested in small-talk. "I'm concerned about a presentation you apparently asked him to give. Now, I'm aware that Henry's family life is no secret, and I commend you for promoting the visibility of healthy queer relationships, but I think it's  _highly_  inappropriate for you to assume you can put my son in the line of fire for --"

"Ms. Mills, I think there's been a misunderstanding," the teacher interrupts nervously. "I didn't assume anything, and I definitely didn't publicly out Henry or whatever you seem to think I did."

Regina grits her teeth. "Then what did you do, Miss Blanchard?" she demands. "Did you or did you not ask Henry to give a presentation to the class about having two moms?"

"Well, that's an incredibly over-simplified version of our discussion, but I suppose –-"

"Then give me the complex version! If Henry wants to speak to his classmates about his family life, that's his decision, and I'm not going to interfere, but I would like to know what possessed you to –-"

"Ms. Mills," Mary Margaret says with a sigh, "as I'm sure you're aware, Henry... Henry is a special boy. He has a high level emotional maturity for someone of his age; he sees connections where other kids don't –- sometimes even more than adults."

"You're not wrong," Regina mutters, wondering where this is going. Are the compliments about Henry's maturity meant to mollify her? Does Ms. Blanchard thing she _wanted_ him to grow up to fast?

"Well, naturally, Henry and I were discussing the latest Marisol book, and he told me about how the two of you read the series together, and he said -- forgive me, I know this is a sensitive topic -- he said it had helped bring the two of you closer, and... well, he said that it had helped both of you process your grief over your wife's death, and..."

"What?" Regina snaps, her knuckles going white as she squeezes her phone so tight she's afraid she might break it.

"He said it was important to him -- and you -- to see a family like yours in a famous book," Miss Blanchard blurts out, all in one breath, "and that he thought seeing Sal find happiness after everything she went through was good for you, and it helped you feel less alone, and that's when I suggested -- oh lord, I'm so sorry! I never meant to overstep any boundaries, and I would never allow any harm to come to your son, or any of my students. I hope you know that."

From the sound of it, Miss Blanchard is nearly in tears, and Regina isn't doing so well, either. "I'm sure you wouldn't," she allows, forcing deep breaths in and out as she holds onto her desk to steady herself. "I may have overreacted, but having been mistreated for most of my life, the idea of my son having to go through the same thing, especially on my account, I just..."

"Of course," Miss Blanchard says immediately. "Believe me, we have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying in my classroom, and everyone at this school adores Henry."

"I'm glad to hear it," Regina says stiffly. "I apologize for bothering you."

She hangs up without further comment and collapses onto on the couch, squeezing a pillow to her chest as she takes a shaky breath in and out, and then another.

She's not quite sure why she's having this meltdown. None of Ms. Blanchard's claims (no, _Henry's_ claims) had been untrue, and it's not as if Regina was previously unaware of the book's impact on her, or on her son. But to hear it spelled out, in his words...

Well, that's the problem. Henrywas never supposed to be aware of broken his mother had become. They were reading together for _him._ That the books happened to help her as well was a positive side effect, but one that was never supposed to be central to Henry's experience. He's ten, and she's his mother. That's not how this relationship was ever supposed to work.

"You should talk to him. If you let him see you're hurting, too, it will help both of you feel less alone," Dr. Hopper had always urged, but Regina refused. It was her job to care for Henry, not the other way around. It's not that she refused to show him any emotion like some sort of monster; he knew she was sad, that she missed Daniela, but some hurts are too deep, too ugly, to share with a child.

That they'd managed to bleed all over him anyway... well, she hopes there's a way to fix that.

 

***

 

When Regina's finally managed to pull herself together, she trudges up the stairs to find Henry, debating whether this is something they need to discuss tonight or if she can put it off for a few more blissful days.She's not sure if she even has the words to do this: working through  _his_  grief had been hard enough without bringing her own feelings into the mix. She'd thought maybe when he was a bit older, when things weren't quite so raw, she'd start to open up to him.

Now he's older, and they're both a little stronger, and he's apparently seen through her defenses even if she wasn't ready to let them down. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe it's time to start treating her baby boy a bit more like an adult, but how? She can't just sit down and start venting to him. Should she call Dr. Hopper and schedule a joint therapy session? Or would involving someone else make Henry stop trusting her? Last time... well, last time had been different. He was being bullied at school and she was in completely over her head and Daniela was dying and how in the world do you explain that to a six-year-old? Maybe if she just --

"Mom, are you coming in?" he asks impatiently, and Regina groans at the realization that he's been watching her throughout this whole mini-panic attack. 

She's still loath to show any sort of weakness in front of her son, but if it brings him closure, maybe it's not the worst idea in the world. Maybe it will help both of them.

Forcing a smile, she slips through the door and clears a pile of books and clothes off his bed so they can sit. He's still at his desk, though, typing furiously on the computer. "Lot of homework tonight?" she remarks. "I can come back and read to you later."

Henry turns in his chair, gesturing for Regina to stay put. "You can wait here. I'm almost done with this," he says. "It's not homework."

"Is it your presentation?"

"No, it's a fanfic about Gin and Sal."

Regina stares for a moment. She's not sure what she expected, but it wasn't that. "You're writing  _femslash?"_  she demands. Her voice squeaks on the last word; he rolls her eyes at her, and she wishes she could disappear under the bed.

"What's femslash? I'm writing Grace a story for her birthday."

"Oh, of course," Regina mumbles. Still shaking her head in disbelief, she tries to change the subject. "What are we reading tonight? We'll probably have to find some new obsession while we're waiting for the next Marisol book. Well, I guess we could re-read them. Or... talk about them. Whatever you want." Tugging at Daniela's ring, the chain digging into the back of her neck, she anxiously rubs her finger against the inscription and awaits his response.

Henry shrugs. "Actually, could you check my story for mistakes before I print it?" he asks, once again surprising her. "I know Grace will like it anyway, because it's Marisol's family, but I just..." He trails off, looking uncertain. "We can get back to normal reading tomorrow night."

"Whatever you want, my little prince," Regina promises, allowing her shoulders to sag with relief for just a moment. "This is  _your_ bedtime reading."

"Right," Henry says uncomfortably before standing aside so she can take his place at the computer, "so, um, there's something else I was wondering."

_Here it is,_ thinks Regina, feeling her chest constrict in panic. The conversation she's so woefully unprepared for. She's suddenly lightheaded, and she has to lean against Henry's shoulder to lower herself into the chair. "What?" she manages to choke out.

"Can I read your fanfic?"

_"What?"_

Regina wonders if she's losing her mind. Her brain must have short-circuited from the joy of her OTP becoming canon, and that's why this entire evening has felt like an out-of-body experience. "You want to read 'Shadowed Heart?'" she asks in disbelief.

She supposes she shouldn't be quite so shocked; she's been showing him other fics for months, it was probably just a matter of time before he developed an interest in hers.

"I know it's rated M," he says. "That's why I'm asking. I don't want to read any gross stuff."

Her head is spinning, and she thinks she might be sick. She hasn't written sex scenes or anything that would be inappropriate for a fourth grader in  _that_ way -- not yet, at least -- but that's not why...

Well, maybe she won't have to talk to him about Daniela. Maybe he can just read her damn fanfiction and everything she's gone through over the past few years will become abundantly clear.

"Henry," she whispers, "it's a pretty dark story. It's not... it's not as fun as some of the others."

Henry just shrugs. "But it's yours," he says, like it's that simple.

"How about tonight we just focus on your story," she suggests, her voice strained. "And I'll... I'll decide the other thing tomorrow. Is that fair?"

"Sure. He sounds agreeable enough, and Regina makes herself exhale before she starts on his story.

Thankfully, it's a quick, fluffy read: nothing so emotional as to send her over the edge again. Storybrooke has a carnival, and Marisol convinces Gin and Sal that all three of them should go together. After a few pages of hilarious mishaps, the story culminates in a sweet, almost romantic (as close to romance as a ten-year-old boy is going to get, anyway) scene on the top of the Ferris Wheel.

She corrects two grammatical mistakes, suggests a few alternative word choices, and then offers him a proud smile. Her son is a better writer than half of the Virgin Savior fandom. (She almost suggests that he publish it online before remembering how inappropriate some people can be in their comments.) "I'm sure Grace will love it, Henry," is all she allows herself to say. "You have some very funny ideas."

"Some of them are based on real life," he tells her, like she's supposed to already know. "Like the part with the pigeon." She must look incredibly confused, because he sighs and says, "When you and Mamá took me to Story Land and the pigeon pooped on your head."

He was six, Regina thinks. How does he even remember that?

How had she forgotten?

"That was a fun day," she remembers. "I mean, apart from the pigeon pooping on my head."

"You were so mad. And then Mamá fell out of the swan boat," he reminds her, giggling. "But I think she did that on purpose to cheer you up."

"Probably," Regina grumbles. Typical Dani -- trying to make Regina laugh with dangerous antics that ended up having the opposite effect. She thinks back to Henry's story and realizes that at least four of the scenes were taken directly from the trip to New Hampshire, and she's overcome with guilt. "We haven't really done anything fun since that day, have we?" she asks, staring at her hands. Two months later, they'd found the brain tumor, and the rest...

"We went to the Marisol party this weekend!" Henry exclaims, and Regina reaches out to squeeze his hand. "Anyway, we don't have to go places to have fun."

"Right." Regina clears her throat and says, "It's getting late. We can read something if you want, but otherwise, it's time for lights out."

Henry groans, but he turns off the computer and drags himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returns, she gives him a tight hug before tucking him into bed and kissing his forehead. "I love you, Henry," she whispers. "I'm sorry about... about today."

He shrugs and mumbles, "I love you, too."

She lingers in the doorway for as long as he'll allow it, and returns to the study with a new problem on her hands. After pouring herself a tall glass of cider, she picks up her phone to text the only person she thinks might understand.

**_Henry wants to read Shadowed Heart._ **

The response, though prompt, is singularly unhelpful.

**well shit. are you gonna let him?**

**_I don’t know! What do you think? Is it inappropriate?_ **

**idk. he's ur kid and ur the one who rated it M.**

Regina flops onto the couch, holding a pillow over her face in case she accidentally screams.  She thinks this might be the hardest part of being a single parent: no one to give her a second opinion or reassure her that she's not going to scar her son for life.

Emma, apparently, is still thinking.

**some parts are kind of scary and sad. he might have nightmares.**  
**but it's probably not worse than stuff he's seen on tv.**

Sighing, Regina tosses her phone onto the end table and contemplates how to explain to a person she barely knows that her greatest fear isn't her son reading about death and monsters or even lesbian sex, it's that the fic might give him a window into her psyche that she's not comfortable opening.

And worse, that he might not like what he sees.

Instead, she allows herself to type, **_I worry that the scenes with Gin in the hospital might be uncomfortable reminders of his other mother's death._**

**yikes,** Emma replies.  
**that could def be an issue.**  
**maybe don't let him read it until it's finished?**  
 **there is a happy ending, right?**  
 **.......RIGHT?!**

Regina smirks and considers what would happen if she didn't respond. In the end, she decides that would be too cruel.

**_Of course, dear. How evil do you think I am?_ **

**GOOD. my roommate will literally flood our apartment with tears if she doesn't get a happy ending.  
she is in way too deep btw. she made a fanpage for you.**

"Lovely," she mutters to herself, unsure whether she's supposed to feel flattered or deeply uncomfortable.

Or a bizarre combination of the two.

**_Thank you for your help, Emma_** , she types, choosing to ignore the revelation.

**no prob. hey, if ur not busy this weekend, do u want to try that "book discussing and writing together" thing we talked about?**  
**u could tell me the ending of shadowed heart?**

Regina laughs out loud before clapping a hand over her mouth, shocked at the sensation after the kind of day she's had. Then again, she supposes it's not the first time Emma's had this kind of effect on her: it would seem that "charmingduckling83" is as funny in real life as she is in her fanfiction.

**_I'm free on Sunday and would enjoy "book discussing and writing" with you.  
I won't tell you the ending, though._ **

**well it was worth a try...**  
**anyway, sounds great! we can figure out time/place later.**  
 **see u sunday!**

 

***

 

Emma swipes a finger through the mountain of whipped cream on her cocoa -- Ruby always makes it perfectly for her -- and turns back to her laptop to read the words on the screen (all 173 of them) for the fifth time. 

Yep, they're all still terrible.

She's been trying to write the fifth chapter of "The Mendezes" for over a week, and at this point, she's convinced that it's an impossible task. Every day that goes by, she has fewer and fewer ideas, and it doesn't help that her readers, having finally grown tired of all the repetitive meta about The Kiss, are starting to pressure her for an update. She's gotten five impatient messages already, which have only made brainstorming more difficult. 

She'd finally responded with passive aggressive Tumblr post that had lost her ten followers.

_that feel when ur trying to bask in ur otp becoming canon and validating ur life and all ppl care about is when ur dumb au is gonna update..._  
_#ffs #emma's problems for ts_

The one thing that makes her feel better is that Regina is having the same problem, multiplied tenfold because "Shadowed Heart" has such a ridiculous following, and she's having just as hard a time dealing with it. Even Mary Margaret, usually so patient with everyone, has started grumbling at home, suggesting that red_honeycrisp is actively trying to make people suffer.

Mary Margaret, of course, still doesn't know that the very same red_honeycrisp is Emma's new texting buddy, although she's become increasingly nosy about their constant conversations, and Emma's not sure how long she can keep it a secret. She had nearly thrown a fit when Mary Margaret tried to invite herself along to this "writing session."

("Mary Margaret, this is not a social outing! I need peace and quiet so I can actually work!")  
("Fine! Enjoy your peace and quiet in a crowded diner! I'll stay here and grade spelling tests and wait for a 'Shadowed Heart' notification!")

So, now she's in a fight with her roommate, and her date's not even here yet. Well, not her _date._ They've been very careful about labels, specifically about not using any. And that's totally fine with Emma. Really, it is. She's notoriously terrible at relationships, and she knows Regina's been through some stuff. She's not expecting anything; she just wants a friend who might actually understand her.

Just when she's finally convinced herself that maybe a shared obsession doesn't equate to personal understanding and Regina must have decided not to show up after all, an unmistakable voice behind her asks, "Is this seat taken?"

Emma glances up, her face breaking out into a grin so wide it's embarrassing. Regina offers her a nervous smile in return, patting the shoulder of the boy standing behind her. Emma thinks she recognizes him from the book launch, but that whole night's just become a blur of giddy amazement. "Sorry I'm late," Regina says with a sigh. "There was traffic on the way here, and I got lost."

If Emma couldn't already tell that was a lie, the kid's smirk confirms it. "More like lost in your closet," he mutters. "How many outfits did you try on?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm also sorry I evidently forgot to teach my son manners," she adds, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, sounding somewhat more earnest, she tells Emma, "I hope you don't mind that I brought Henry along. I figured if we're just writing, maybe he could read or do homework..."

Her voice trails off, and as much as Emma might have wished to have Regina all to herself, she's careful not to show it. It's not like she was unaware of the fact that Regina was a single mother, and Henry seems like a cool enough kid. "Yeah, that's totally fine," she says, and her smile never wavers. "You getting a lot of homework these days?"

Sighing, Henry plops down into a chair and mutters, "Miss Blanchard got yelled at by the principal for not assigning enough, so now she has to make up for it."

"If she had just listened to parent complaints from the beginning and not spent half the year doing pointless art projects, this wouldn't be an issue," adds Regina. They both turn to Emma, expecting a reaction, but she's frozen.

"Miss... is Mary Margaret Blanchard your teacher?" she asks, feeling slightly faint. This could be bad. This could be _really_ bad. This could ruin everything. Would Regina consider it a conflict of interest to hang out with her kid's teacher's roommate? A teacher she clearly dislikes?

"Yeah," Henry says. "You know her?" Regina arches one eyebrow, looking the most intimidating Emma has ever seen her.

Of all her options, the truth seems the least problematic. "Um...yeah, actually, I live with her." Turning to Regina, she says under her breath, "That would be my roommate who's obsessed with  'Shadowed Heart.'"

It takes Regina a moment to process, and then her legs seem to give out from under her. She practically collapses into her chair while Henry lets out a whoop that's a little too loud for indoors. "Oh my god!" he exclaims. "Do you thinks she knows?"

"No," Emma replies immediately.

Once she recovers, Regina chimes in, "I'm sure if she did, you'd never hear the end of it."

Emma chortles, imagining Mary Margaret's shock. "Yeah, can you imagine?" She puts on her best Mary Margaret voice and says, "Henry, if your mother gives me a sneak peek of the next chapter, I'll bump your math grade to an A+."

He shudders. "Or maybe like: Ms. Mills, if you don't write a happy ending, I'll give Henry all F's."

"In all seriousness, though," says Regina, "I would appreciate it if you _didn't_ tell her. Miss Blanchard and I have enough difficulties without this added in."

Emma's still laughing, but she immediately replies, "Don't worry, I'll protect your secret identity." Henry looks a little disappointed, but he shrugs one shoulder in agreement. "Okay," Emma says once she gets a hold of herself, "what do you guys want to drink? My treat."

 

***

 

By the time Emma gets home, she's smiling so hard she feels like her face is going to fall off. Apart from the initial awkwardness, she thinks that may have been one of the most enjoyable afternoons of her life. Regina, it turns out, is a little uptight but also a lot of fun, and Henry almost makes her like kids. Once he found out she was the author of "The Mendezes," he'd been full of praise and excitement and a few great suggestions for the plot. She just needs to get Mary Margaret to edit for her, and she'll be ready to post the next chapter.

If Mary Margaret isn't pissed at her, that is.

"How was your 'writing retreat?'" she grumbles as Emma walks in, barely looking up from the pile of tests spread across the kitchen table.

"It was good; I finished the chapter," Emma says. "How was grading?"

"You finished? That's good. I wasn't as productive here -- I kept checking my email. 'Shadowed Heart' still hasn't updated."

Emma opens her mouth to respond and then immediately shuts it, remembering her promise to keep Regina's identity a secret. She can't resist one little experiment, though. "I ran into one of your students at the diner," she says casually. "His name was Henry, I think."

"Henry Mills?" Mary Margaret's face breaks into a smile. "He's a great kid. Really smart. _Loves_ the Marisol Mendez series, by the way."

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression. It's pretty much all he and his mom would talk about," she adds, allowing herself a private little smirk.

Mary Margaret shivers, her grin abruptly disappearing. "Ugh, you met his mom? She's a piece of work, isn't she?"

"Seemed fine to me," Emma says, trying not to laugh. "Not exactly laidback, but she's nice enough."

"She _hates_ me," moans Mary Margaret. "Every time I think we're making progress, I somehow piss her off again, and we're back to square one. It's a good thing Henry's a perfect student, otherwise I don't know what I'd do."

Emma tries to look sympathetic, but she can't wipe the smile off her face. Mary Margaret studies her for a moment before groaning. "Oh, no. Emma, you have a crush on her, don't you?"

"No. Maybe." Trying to force a laugh, Emma backs into the living room and flops onto the couch, pulling her phone out so she can update her followers.

_alright, whiners, the chapter is done, and i'll post it tonight once it's edited. (was gonna make u wait, but i'm in a GR8 mood today.)_  
_#fic update update #virgin savior #cd83 fic #incredibles au_

"savetheapples" likes her post almost immediately, and Emma wonders what Mary Margaret would think if she started twirling around the room. Probably take her to some kind of mental hospital.

A text from Regina pops up on her screen, and she clicks it eagerly, feeling a warmth spreading from the pit of her stomach through her entire body.

**_Henry is very excited for our bedtime reading tonight.  
We both hope to see you soon._ **

 

***

 

"Why are you smiling at your phone?" Marian asks, leaning over Regina's desk to sneak a peek. She's just returned to work after a week's leave (Regina's not quite familiar with the details, but apparently her husband had taken her son camping and they'd both ended up contracting a bacterial infection thanks to a broken water filter. Thankfully, everyone's fine after IV fluids and a round of antibiotics, but Marian's still pretty upset.), and Regina isn't sure how to even begin explaining what went on in her absence. "Regina, are you  _texting_ someone?"

That, at least, is an easy enough question. "Yes," she replies evenly.

"Someone you  _like?"_  

Regina rolls her eyes. After some consideration, she says, "Yes, I suppose I do like her." 

Marian's grin is so wide that it takes up half her face. "That's so great!" she exclaims. "What's her name? How did you meet?" When Regina hesitates, Marian pleads, "Come on, Regina, I've been cleaning up vomit all week. Give me  _something."_

"Okay, her name is Emma, and I met her online. And then we met in person -- by accident, but then we met again on purpose."

"You tried online dating? That's great! You know, I heard something on the radio about how it's so much easier for LGBT people to -- wait, why are you shaking your head?"

_A very good question,_ Regina thinks, internally smacking herself. Online dating would have been a good cover story: it carries far less stigma these days, and more importantly, it's something Marian has heard of before. How is she supposed to explain  _fanfiction_  to someone whose entire bookcase is filled with Appalachian Trail guidebooks?

"Well, you know those Marisol Mendez books?" she begins, trying to keep her tone as casual as possible.  _"The Queen and the Saviour_ and all of that?"

Marian shrugs. "Roland's still a little too young, but I've heard of them, obviously. Who hasn't?"

"Right," Regina says. She takes a deep breath, counts to five, and then exhales. "Have you heard of fanfiction?" Judging from the confused look on Marian's face, Regina assumes she hasn't. "Okay, so, a lot of people like to write their own stories using the characters from the books -- I know, maybe it's strange, but it's fun, and... well, I've personally found it very cathartic."

"Hold on," Marian interrupts, "you write?"

"Just online, it's not a big deal. Anyway --"

"I think that's great. I mean, maybe it's kind of weird, but you have a hobby. You're  _doing_ things again. Robin and I were worried that... Anyway, what does fanfiction have to do with this Emma person?"

Regina scowls. "If you would just let me finish, I'll tell you. A few months ago, I was having trouble sleeping, and I found this...fanfiction...on the internet. And, well, there's an entire online community of people who ship Gin and Sal, and --"

"Hold on, you lost me. People who  _what?"_

"Gin and Sal are Marisol's two moms," Regina explains in a hurry. "And ship means they want them to get together." Marian looks like she wants to say something, but Regina forges ahead. "As I was saying, people write stories and make graphics and all sorts of other things, based on these books, and I started corresponding with this other writer, charmingduckling83, and --"

Marian interrupts her again, this time with a loud snort. "Sorry, go on," she mumbles, trying and failing to choke back a laugh. "It's just...I wouldn't have expected that from you, you know? Because you're, well..." She gestures to Regina's pristine business attire and continues, "You're not exactly the 'Charming Duckling' type. I'm just surprised you agreed to meet up with her."

"I didn't," Regina grumbles. "How irresponsible do you think I am? I met her, just by chance, at the release of the fifth book, and we realized we'd been speaking online for a while. She lives nearby. I gave her my number, and we got coffee together on Sunday."

"You gave her your number and already had a coffee date?" Marian practically shouts before clapping her hand over her mouth when Regina shoots her a murderous glare. "Sorry, I promise I'm not trying to broadcast this to the whole company," she continues in a much softer tone, "but Regina, this is huge for you."

Regina protests, "It wasn't a date. It was just a friendly writing discussion. It was casual -- Henry was there."

"Of course," Marian replies, though her smirk implies she doesn't believe a word. "But even a friendly writing discussion is kind of a big deal. I mean, you haven't exactly gotten out much since Dani died."

"I went out to dinner with you and Robin. Twice, if I'm remembering correctly."

"Yeah, two nights in two years. You're such a social butterfly," Marian says sarcastically, and Regina's fingers clench around the arm of her chair. 

"If you're done criticizing my social life, can we get to work on these audits," she growls, turning her head so Marian won't see the tears that are suddenly springing to her eyes. She wonders if she'll ever be okay after one of these conversations. At this point, she's not even sure if she remembers what "okay" feels like.

"I'm sorry," Marian sighs. She tries to place a hand on Regina's shoulder, but Regina shrugs it off. "Look, I wasn't -- I was just saying, you know, it's been a while since you've been... excited. And it seems like you are, about Emma. I mean, even if it's not romantic, you must really like her if you let Henry meet her."

_But what if it_ is _romantic?_ Regina wants to ask. _What if I_ do _want more than just friendly writing discussions with her? Is it too soon? Is she ready to think about romance? Would it traumatize Henry? What if they start something and it turns out Regina is too broken? What if she scares Emma off? What if her mother is right and she really is unlovable?_

She doesn't ask. She's not sure if she knows how to ask. (And, quite frankly, she's not sure if Marian would know how to answer, even if she did.)

Instead she just nods, puts her phone in her purse, and says, "Do you want me to brief you on the policy updates or not?"

 

***

 

That night at dinner, Henry is quieter than usual, and Regina tries not to read too much into it. She'd made his favorite enchiladas, after all, and he barely has time to breathe in between stuffing food in his mouth, much less speak. However, when he eventually slows and still isn't talking, she starts to become worried.

And evidently, she isn't the only one.

"Mom, are you okay?" he asks as they're clearing the table. "You, like, haven't said a word since you got home."

"I'm fine," Regina lies. "How about you? Did you have a good day at school?"

Henry shrugs. "It was alright. Gym was boring, though. We had to play baseball." He heaves a loud sigh and adds, "Grace is so lucky she has asthma. She gets to go to the resource room and write stories instead."

"Well, I'm sure Grace doesn't feel lucky to have asthma," Regina points out, rolling her eyes. "And it's not like you're lacking in writing time just because you have to play baseball a few times a week."

"But I like writing with Grace," he whines. "It's more fun with someone else to talk with!"

Regina nods, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips as she remembers their time with Emma. "It is, isn't it?" she muses.

Suddenly, Henry demands, "Are we going to do that again?"

"Do what again?" Regina asks, stalling for time, even though she knows exactly what he means. He glares impatiently at her.

"Hang out with Emma. It was fun, right?"

"It was," Regina says carefully.

"She's really cool, isn't she?"

_Where is this going?_ she wonders. "Yes, I suppose she is."

"So, when are we hanging out with her again?"

"I...I don't know, Henry," she stammers, surprised at his eagerness. "I suppose it depends, on...a lot of things."

He rolls his eyes and demands, "Why are you being so weird?"

She wishes she could explain. She wishes  she knew how to open up to him in a way that wouldn't scare him away. She wishes...

"So, you... you had fun that day?" she asks cautiously. "You want to do it again?"

"Duh, that's what I just said. But, I mean, we don't have to do the _same_ thing again. She could come over for dinner. We could play mini-golf."

_"Mini-golf?"_

"I don't know! It was just an idea." Then he offers her a sneaky smile and adds, "And if you want to hang out with her alone, that's okay, too. I can go to the Zimmers' house. They just got an Xbox."

_Alone?_ He wants her to hang out with Emma _alone?_

"You would really be okay with that? If...if I spent time with Emma...alone?"

"Well, yeah!" Henry exclaims, rolling his eyes. "You're allowed to hang out with your own friends. You don't have to worry about me. I know I was weird for a while after Mamá died, but I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm okay now."

He leans in for a hug, almost as if he's trying to reassure her, but Regina feels like the wind's been knocked out of her chest. "Henry," she whispers, "I..."

"Mom, it's okay. You're allowed to have fun. You're allowed to have a happy ending. That's what Mamá would want."

"Would she?" Regina wonders aloud, feeling the blood run cold in her veins. Of course Dani would want her to have a "happy ending," but with some random woman she'd met on the internet who's obsessed with fictional characters? Would Daniela want her to live her entire life in a fictional universe because she can't cope with reality?

What is she doing to herself? To her _son?_ Yes, the Marisol Mendez series had helped them through a tough time, but is she taking it too far? Maybe she's been living in this fairytale universe so long she's forgotten how the real world operates: there's no guarantee of a happy ending.

She'd allowed herself to get caught up in this ridiculous notion of hope, and where had it led her?

She'd let a complete stranger into Henry's life.

She'd shared her most intimate hopes and fears with someone she knew only as charmingduckling83.

Seeming to sense her distress, even if he couldn't possibly understand the cause (Please, let him never understand; let him always believe.), Henry lifts his head off her shoulder and says, "Mom, it's okay. I know you're still sad. You don't have to pretend for me."

"Oh, Henry, that's not..."

Regina trails off, feeling like a pathetic idiot and a failure as a mother. What is she even supposed to say to him?

She's spiraling out of control -- she knows she is -- and there's no way she can even begin to articulate the maelstrom of her emotions without bursting into tears.

She can't do this. Not here, not in front of _him._ Henry can act as mature as he wants, but he's still her baby boy. He doesn't deserve to see her like this. She's already burdened him more than any parent should.

"Why don't you finish your homework," she finally manages to choke out. "Leave the dishes to me."

He looks skeptical, but eventually he leaves, extracting himself from her arms with a doleful pout. Regina waits until he's out of the kitchen before turning on the faucet and finally allowing herself to unravel, leaning hard against the sink as harsh sobs shake her entire body, thoroughly divesting her of whatever residual "hope" she had left.

What had possessed her to think this was a good idea? Had she been so desperate to believe in even the possibility of a happy ending that she'd abandoned all common sense and jumped on the first opportunity that came along?

This isn't a fairytale. She's not Salbatora Mendez, and Emma certainly isn't Gin. They're real people, and it's about time she started acting like it.

When she's finished with the dishes, she sees she has ten texts from Emma. She deletes them all without reading them and shuts herself in the bathroom, curled up on the floor of the shower, until all of her tears are spent and she's ready to kiss Henry goodnight.

He doesn't comment on her smudged eye makeup or the red blotches on her cheeks.

And he doesn't ask about Emma.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few days, Emma checks her phone every five minutes, worried that it might be broken. She's sure she seems gross and desperate, but she's reviewing the past two weeks' events in her mind, and  none of it makes any sense.

Since the book launch, her texts with Regina had been growing more and more frequent, especially after their coffee not-date on Sunday. She'd had a great time, as had Regina and Henry (or so they claimed). They were even discussing doing it again the next weekend. Then, sometime on Monday evening, Regina had simply stopped texting back.

At first, Emma hadn't thought anything of it. She doesn't expect Regina to reply immediately, not all the time, anyway. She has a job and a kid and things to do. Emma has her own stuff demanding her attention.

But when she goes to sleep that night and Regina still hasn't responded, she starts to wonder if something's wrong, and by the time twenty-four hours have passed without a single text, she gets an ominous feeling deep in her gut.

She tries to send Regina a message on Tumblr -- several, in fact -- but she doesn't answer those, either. (And, of course, Regina isn't most active Tumblr user, but she's replied to at least three other asks during that time, all anons whining about "Shadowed Heart" updates, and there's no way the site ate _all_ of Emma's messages. Something must be up.)

She leaves a comment on Regina's one-shot on AO3 -- _"hey, i just reread this and remembered how awesome it was when u wrote it. thanks again."_ \-- but the woman who previously responded _every single one of her hundreds of reviews_ just lets it sit there, unanswered.

Finally, she turns to her last resort. "Hey, M&M," she says, trying her best to keep her tone casual, "how's that kid doing? Henry, the one that I met at the diner."

Mary Margaret shrugs. "He's fine, I guess. His mom's not a big fan of our ornithology unit, which she's made very clear to me, but Henry's doing as well as ever. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Emma mumbles, slinking back into her room.

"Emma Swan, what did you do?" Mary Margaret calls after her, but Emma just shakes her head. Nothing. This time she did nothing.

But somehow, something must have gone wrong. 

 

***

 

After a week of unanswered texts, Emma concludes that one of two things must be going on. Either she actually did something awful, or Regina Mills is the giant asshole Emma initially thought she was and the "friendship" they'd developed was all an act. Neither of those options makes any sense, though.

But when she sees that savetheapples's blog has been deleted, she assumes it must be her fault, because fandom assholes don't usually just _disappear_ without reason, they stick around like nasty cockroaches, growing more and more zealous in their opinions, with zero awareness of everyone's distaste for their bullshit. Anyway, Regina's not one of those people: the only thing she ever posts are fic updates and the occasional funny story about her son's friends and their Marisol obsession. And for all the followers "Shadowed Heart" has, Emma's pretty sure she's seen Regina interact personally with five people, maximum.

And, since four of those people are gross sycophants, Emma's clearly the one who did something to upset her. She just can't figure out what it could have been. Their coffee get-together had gone well –- she'd even made friends with Regina's kid, and she's _terrible_ with kids -- and they'd texted on and off all evening, and then...nothing.

She's looked every conversation log multiple times, but she can't find anything that would have caused such a dramatic rift.

"Why are you so grumpy?" Mary Margaret demands over dinner, and Emma just grunts in reply and locks herself in her room so she can vent to anonymous people online instead of a friend who actually cares about her.

 _always sucks when you think you have something going with someone and then suddenly you don't. don't know what i did to her but it's always something. everyone leaves i should probably just get used to it by now._  
_#gotta know when it's time to give up i guess #emma's problems for ts #sry for vagueblogging_

She starts to regret the post almost as soon as it's up, but there's something holding her back from deleting it. Maybe she's wallowing; maybe she's attention-seeking, but damn it, she deserves some attention. She deserves to wallow after yet another person abandoned her. And maybe she deserves this; maybe she had unknowingly hurt Regina, but doesn't she at least get to know _why?_

 _Maybe she figured out how useless you are at relationships,_ the dark, hopeless voice in her head tells her. _Maybe she doesn't want to be with someone so broken. She needs someone reliable who'll be there for her and her kid, not someone with the emotional maturity of a preteen._

Self-loathing increasing by the minute, she storms out of the room to grab a bag of chips, pointedly ignoring Mary Margaret. When she returns to her computer, she's unsurprised to see that she already has a new message notification. She clicks the icon, expecting the worst. She should have taken the post down: vague-blogging isn't her usual style, and given that the whole thing is probably her own fault, she doesn't want any of her more rabid followers to start investigating who it's about.

However, the message is surprisingly positive.

_Oh, sweetie, it's always hard when relationships don't work out. I'm sure it's not your fault. Sometimes things just happen: life isn't a fairy tale. Still, you have to hold onto hope that someday you'll find the right person who treats you like you deserve._

"Mary Margaret," she mutters, but she decides to humor her anonymous well-wisher with a response.

_yeah, thanks "nonnie," i'm already pretty aware that life isn't a fairy tale, AS YOU PROBABLY KNOW. i don't know why i bother hoping. it never works out. i just thought maybe this time it would._

About five minutes later, her inbox starts flooding with messages.

_stop whining. write more fic._

_I'm so sorry you're having a tough time, but maybe it's for the best. You'll find your person eventually._

_if u did something wrong then apologize. its not 2 late._

_i think you should fight for the people you love. don't give up if you care about the relationship! would Gin give up on Sal?_

It's the last one that feels like a stab to the gut. Using Virgin Savior against her? Really? What the hell is wrong with people? This isn't a fairytale land! Identifying with a character doesn't mean you get to share their happy ending. Emma isn't Gin, for fuck's sake, and Regina, despite being a Latina single mother who makes her own kind of magic with words, isn't Sal.

(That she'd allowed herself to believe for a blissful minute that their story could come to the same conclusion...well, that's something she doesn't want to think about right now.)

_um, yeah, the thing is, nonnie, i'm not a fictional character. fairy tales are great and all, and i'm all for the life lessons and representation and all of that, but this is real life and i'm a real person. in a story you can manufacture a happily-ever-after. not so much in my life._

Another message -- presumably from the same person -- arrives moments later.

_i think you're just a coward and a hypocrite. and you're probably right that it's all your fault._

_well, fuck you too_ , Emma replies, before slamming her laptop shut. Her hands tremble with rage as she picks up her pillow and punches it again and again, trying to ignore the hot, salty tears trickling down her face.

 

***

 

When she finally leaves her room, she finds Mary Margaret lying on the couch, clutching her iPad in one hand and a fistful of tissues in the other.

"Who died?" Emma demands, grabbing her roommate's long-forgotten bowl of popcorn and settling on the armchair. If she and Mary Margaret are in the same mood for once, maybe they can actually enjoy each other's company.

Mary Margaret gulps back a sob. "They're going to take Gin off life support," she blubbers. "They said she's brain dead, and --"

"Wait, _who?"_ It takes Emma a moment to process, and then she groans. Just what she needs: more reminders of red_honeycrisp. "Is this 'Shadowed Heart?'" Mary Margaret nods. "Cliffhanger?" An affirmative wheeze. "What an asshole."

She storms back into her room and flops on the bed, trying and failing to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "Of course you'd kill Gin," she whispers. "Of course you'd take away the happy endings." Then, setting her jaw defiantly, she stares up at the ceiling, torn between hating Regina for putting her through this and hating herself for allowing it to happen in the first place.

She should have known better, should have thought harder. Every time she lets someone in, it always ends this way. Regina Mills is just more of the same, and Emma's an idiot to have thought about falling in love with her.

But then she thinks about Regina's smile and her big, expressive eyes and the way she ruffles Henry's hair, and she thinks she'd have to be an idiot _not_ to love her.

She wonders which type of idiot is worse.

 

***

 

Gin may have never given up on Sal, but Emma is about ready to give up on Regina. She's sent two more texts inquiring if Regina is okay, but there's been no response, and after another week, she calls it quits.

She's not sure what she did, but it must have been something. She always does _something._

She doesn't expect Regina to be back. She just wishes she would have said goodbye.

She's completely shocked when, the day after she deletes Regina from her phone, she receives a call on her way home from work, from a number she definitely recognizes.

"Hey!" she says, mentally slapping herself for sounding too eager. She shouldn't have picked up -- should have given Regina a taste of her own medicine -- but she guesses it's too late now. That's what she gets for caring about someone who doesn't reciprocate her feelings.

But the voice on the other end isn't Regina. "Hi, is this Emma Swan?" it asks, and Emma nearly swerves off the road.

_"Henry?"_

"Yeah, it's me," he replies, his voice shaking. He sounds like he's been crying or might start soon.

"What's up, kid?" asks Emma. _Why are you calling me? Don't you know your mom doesn't want to be my friend anymore?_ she wants to add, but she doesn’t.

"I...your number was on Mom's phone, and..."

"Kid, is your mom okay?" Emma interrupts, suddenly frantic. Why else would he call her? They're not close or anything.

"I don't know!" Henry exclaims. "She said she is, but she keeps throwing up, and I think she has a fever, and..." He pauses, breathes heavily a few times, and cries, "I don't know what to do? What if she has to go to the hospital? What if something happens to her? What if --"

"Relax, kid. Nothing's going to happen to your mom."

She hears a sob from the other end of the line and wants to bash her head into the steering wheel. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say to a kid who's already lost one of his moms.

A kid who's probably in way over his head trying to take care of a sick parent by himself.

Maybe she needs to try a different approach. "Listen," she sighs, "your mom isn't really speaking to me right now. I don't know -- I don't think she'd want me in her house. But..."

Is she really about to do this?

Apparently, she is.

"But if you want me to stop by and check on you guys, if that'll make you feel better, I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," he whispers tearfully, and Emma rolls her eyes, wondering what's she's managed to get herself into.

Henry sprints out the door the second Emma pulls into the driveway, diving into her arms as she exits the car. "Um, hi there, kid," she mutters. "Take it easy."

He barely knows her, but he's acting like she's his own personal savior in a way that makes her deeply uncomfortable. "My mom's upstairs," he explains, tugging her arm. "Hurry!"

As promised (and Emma had wondered, albeit briefly, if this was some kind of trick), Regina is upstairs in the master bathroom, no longer puking but looking like she very well could. She's huddled on the floor, in an oxford shirt damp with sweat, her clammy forehead resting on the rim of the tub. "Shit," Emma mutters, and then claps a hand over her mouth, hoping Henry hadn't heard.

"Emma's here," he announces to his mother. _"She'll_ know what to do."

Emma stifles a groan but figures correcting him would be counterproductive at this point. Regina stares at him for a moment, her eyes foggy and unseeing, before she finally processes the information and her head drops. Emma can see her lips slowly forming the numbers one through ten, and then she takes a deep, shaking breath and hisses, "Why is Emma here?"

"Well, he --" Emma starts to explain, but she's rendered speechless when Henry responds by bursting into tears.

"You collapsed and you were saying weird stuff and I thought you were going to die!" he wails. "I... I... I thought you were going to die like Mamá and leave me all alone!"

Regina's eyes widen and she starts glancing frantically around the room like she's trapped. "Henry," she whispers, "my little prince, I --" Emma sees it coming just before it happens: using what little strength she has left, Regina reaches out to him, trying to push herself up, but her legs are shaking and she's obviously dizzy and she's on the floor before either Henry or Emma can catch her. Emma watches in horror as Regina's entire face crumples and she starts murmuring apologies in both English and Spanish in between gut-wrenching sobs. Henry freezes, stunned out of his tears, and Emma's instincts tell her to flee.

She doesn't, though. She stays put even though every muscle in her body wants to run, forcing herself to take deep breaths. "Um, kid," she finally says, figuring that getting Henry out of the room is probably Priority Number One, "do you guys have a thermometer?" He nods, still staring at his mother in horror. "Okay, so how about you get that, and some old towels -- nothing nice or new, okay? -- and maybe a washcloth. Oh, and do you have any Gatorade in the house? Or something with electrolytes?"

"Um, I think we have Pedialyte from the last time I got sick," he mumbles.

"Okay, good enough," Emma declares. "You go find all of that stuff, alright? I'll help get your mom to bed." His eyes are still locked on Regina, his lower lip twitching as he reaches one hand out toward her. Then he stops abruptly and the tears start gushing from his eyes again. Emma sighs, stepping in front of him, and says, "Look, she's going to be fine, I promise. She just has a stomach bug or something -- you've had those before, right?" He gives a weak nod, and she continues, "Okay, so you know it'll only last a couple days, tops. Some sleep and fluids and snuggling and she'll be back to normal. Now go get that stuff so we can put her to bed."

Finally, he obeys, and Emma takes another couple of deep breaths before approaching Regina. "Look, I know you don't want me here," she says softly, crouching down to meet the other woman's eyes. "I only came because Henry called me, and I promise I'll leave as soon as you're tucked into bed and he's convinced you're not going to die. If you want me out right now, that's fine, and I'll go, but I think we both know that's not the best idea."

She holds her breath waiting for Regina's response. There's a part of her -- a small part, but a vocal one -- that hopes Regina will tell her to leave immediately and never come back, but that seems unlikely. For one thing, Regina's still crying too hard to form a coherent sentence, much less a forceful one, and for another, she seems to be nodding, offering Emma a watery half-smile that's guarded but still filled with so much gratitude it's terrifying.

"Okay, I'm taking that to mean you want me to stay," Emma mutters. "Do...um, do you want me to help you walk to your bed now?" Another nod. "Okay, cool." As gently as she can, she lifts Regina's right arm over her shoulders, slowly counts to three, and stands, bracing Regina against her.

Regina's legs tremble with the effort of walking the fifteen feet to the bed, and Emma ends up practically carrying her, but finally they make it with no catastrophes. Emma jogs back to the bathroom to retrieve a roll of toilet paper for Regina to wipe her tears and contemplates her next problem.

"So, um, do you need pajamas?" she asks hesitantly, handing over the toilet paper.

Regina's sobs have mostly quieted to sniffles, and she's able to croak, "Second drawer." Emma digs out an absurdly soft pair of silk pajamas and tosses them onto the bed, awkwardly standing off to the side while Regina changes, trying to avert her eyes from the sight of bare skin. When she takes the discarded shirt and slacks to the laundry basket, Regina reaches out to grab her hand. "Henry," she rasps.

Emma's about to say she'll find him, but Henry chooses that moment to reappear, his arms laden with all of the items Emma requested and more. "I brought crackers and ibuprofen," he reports.

"That's great, kid," Emma says hesitantly, "but maybe we should hold off on those until we're sure she can keep down the clear liquids."

"Oh, right." He looks embarrassed, but thankfully a bit less teary than before. "Do you need the thermometer to take her temperature?"

Emma hums in indecision, and Regina shakes her head as vigorously as someone with next to no strength in her muscles possibly could. It's pretty obvious she has a fever -- her body had been pressed against Emma's as they walked over and it was definitely _way_ too warm -- but she's not sure what confirming the extent of it will do, apart from freaking Henry out again. (Then, of course, there's the question of whether she should take Regina to the hospital, but she has a feeling she'd get a flat-out refusal, and then what would she do with Henry? Would she take care of him here? Wait at the hospital? Does Regina have any other friends who he could stay with?)

She needs to stop freaking out. "Uh, not yet. How about you run the washcloth under cold water and we can put it on her forehead?"

While he's taking care of that, Emma starts spreading the towels on the bed. "Just in case you hurl again," she explains. "That duvet looks like it would be hard to wash."

Regina waves her hand dismissively and blows her nose, but Emma knows silk when she sees it. She'd been sick in a foster home once and thrown up on a nice comforter, and the reaction had been anything but pleasant. When Henry returns, she takes the washcloth and says, "Is it cool if I put this on your forehead?" (She chuckles internally at her own terrible pun, which no one else seems to notice.) Regina nods, but the second the cloth touches her skin, she jerks violently and starts shivering, letting out a pained whimper that sets Henry right back to square one.

"What's wrong with her?" he exclaims, grabbing Emma's wrist. "Does she need to go to the hospital? Is she --"

"Relax, kid. Her body temperature's just out of whack, that's all." She wonders if Henry's never seen Regina ill before: she must have gotten the flu or at least a cold at some point, right? Or maybe she's superhuman.

Or, more likely, she realizes, seeing his other mom waste away from brain cancer superseded all his memories of harmless illnesses.

"No hospital," Regina rasps. "I'm...fine."

"Yeah, hear that? She's fine."

"She doesn't look fine," Henry grumbles, his wide, scared eyes belying his irritation. Emma shrugs and puts the cloth back on Regina's forehead, brushing a sweat-soaked lock of hair aside.

"She'll be fine soon," Emma assures him, sending up a silent plea to any fairies who may be listening not to make a liar out of her. "Now, let's get some fluids in her."

Regina is too weak to hold a cup herself, and she recoils at Henry's attempt to do it for her, looking like she might break down again. "Mom, you need to stay hydrated!" Henry insists, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears. "It's important."

"Hey, Henry, why don't you go pick out a book or something to read to your mom," Emma says way too loudly. "I'll take care of this little problem." Once he's finally out of the room, she turns to Regina and sighs. "Look, I know you feel weird about him trying to take care of you, but --"

"You have no idea what I feel, Ms. Swan," Regina interrupts, so furious her voice is shaking (or maybe that's just the illness -- Emma can't really tell). "You have no idea what it's like, trying to raise a child alone, trying to help him cope with grief and get back to his normal life when you can barely get out of bed in the morning, having to go through life knowing that there are people who think he shouldn't even be yours when he's your _everything,_ knowing they'll judge you for every wrong move, knowing --"

She breaks off into a sob, and Emma wants to smack herself in the face because, yeah, she has no idea. Then again, her understanding Regina's life isn't what's necessary right now. "You're right," she says softly, "I don't know what you feel. But," she adds, hoping Henry's taking his time with the book search, "I do know one thing."

"What's that?" asks Regina, sniffing loudly and swiping the back of her hand across her cheek to wipe away the tears. Her shock at winning the argument so easily seems to have cut off

"You'll feel a _lot_ better once you get some sleep and fluids and kick this fever. I get that Henry isn't allowed to help, but can I?"

Regina groans and shoots Emma a resigned glare. "Do I have a choice?" she asks.

"I mean, you always have a choice," Emma says, shrugging. Regina just rolls her eyes in response. "Does that mean I have permission to feed you?"

Regina doesn't say yes, but she does allow Emma to hold the cup for her while she takes a small sip of Pedialyte. "This is disgusting," she mumbles, wrinkling her nose.

"Everything that's good for you is disgusting," Emma points out. "Cold medicine, kale, saunas, documentaries, beeswax ..."

She keeps listing everything she hates, and by the time Henry returns, Regina's finished half the glass and is actually cracking a smile.  "I thought we could just reread our favorites," he says, indicating the stack of five books in his hands. Sure enough, it's the entire Marisol Mendez series.

Smiling softly, Regina says, "Henry, I don't think we can make it through all of those today."

"That's fine. I'll just read until you fall asleep."

From the look on Regina's face, Henry reading to her is an even bigger blow to her pride than having someone else hold her cup. Emma braces herself for another explosion, but finally, Regina nods and leans back against her pillows. "Thank you, Henry," she whispers, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

Obviously pleased, he turns to Emma and asks, "Do you want to stay and read with us?" and she nearly chokes on her own spit.

"Uh, well, you know...not really my call, kid," she mutters. "You're gonna have to check with your mom on that."

"Can she?" he asks, flashing Regina his best puppy dog eyes. She doesn't respond right away; her expression is inscrutable, and Emma feels her face fall. _Stupid,_ she tells herself. _Why would she want you to stay? She didn't want you here in the first place._

But Regina surprises her. "If Emma wants to, she can stay," she tells Henry. Then, meeting Emma's disbelieving stare, she adds, "I would be very happy if she did."

 

***

 

Regina wakes to the sound of laughter and the smell of grilled cheese wafting up the stairs. There's another voice along with Henry's that takes her a moment to recognize. Emma is still here. The thought simultaneously warms and terrifies her.

She's still feeling poorly, but she's strong enough to stand on her own, shrug her robe over her shoulders, and pad down the stairs, where she leans against the kitchen door, silently observing.

There's something beautifully unexpected about the effortless smile on Henry's face, especially remembering how distraught he'd been only hours before. She winces at the recollection of their shared emotional breakdowns and the newly exposed chinks in both of their armor that will take time and effort to heal.

But for now, Henry seems calm and happy. If he's not permanently scarred by this, she supposes she has Emma Swan to thank.

His smile broadens when he sees her standing upright. "Mom!" he shouts, dropping his spoon into the pot of soup on the stove (splashing Emma), as he sprints across the room.

"Oof," Regina grunts, when he nearly tackles her to the floor. He's getting too big for this.

She never wants it to stop.

His eyes trace up and down her body, like he's checking for wounds, and he demands, "Are you feeling better?"

"I am," Regina confirms, and with one hand reaching up to cup his chin, she asks, "Are you?"

Henry blushes and looks away. "I didn't mean to freak out," he says quietly.

"I didn't mean for you to take care of me," Regina says, a lump rising in her throat. "I'm so sorry, Henry."

He wraps his arms around her waist and points out, "I'm ten years old, not ten months. It's okay for me to help you sometimes."

"No," says Regina, shaking her head, "I'm your mother. I take care of you, not the other way around. I promise --"

"Never to get the flu again?" Henry interrupts, cutting her off by tightening the hug. "Stop. Do you want some dinner? We're making grilled cheese and tomato soup."

"I can see that," Regina replies, grimacing. The thought of eating something so greasy causes her stomach to start doing flips again, and she's had enough nausea for one day. "I'll be happy to sit with you while you eat, but I might start with crackers. Why don't you set the table for three?"

Henry practically skips out of the room, lighter on his feet than she's seen him in years, and Regina takes the opportunity to approach Emma. "I owe you an apology," she says, ducking her heads sheepishly.

"No need," says Emma. "It's not like you got sick on purpose, and I know you didn't tell him to call me. I wouldn't have --"

"No, it's not that." Regina forces herself to take a deep breath and shuts her eyes in preparation for whatever might happen next. "I...I'm sorry for cutting you off so abruptly, and I'm sorry I never explained myself."

"Well, it wasn't anything that's never happened to me before," Emma says through gritted teeth, her cheeks flushed as she stares hard at the ground. "People 'cut me off' all the time."

"I'm so sorry," Regina repeats. "I...I can't even explain it. I just..." If Emma was angry, this would be easy, but instead she looks hurt, and Regina wishes the floor would just swallow her up. What she wouldn't give for the ability to just poof out of here. "I let myself get caught up in all of this...fandom business, and I worried... I barely knew you. I still barely know you. And I trust you, but..."

"Hey, I get it," Emma interrupts, her voice much more gentle. "You have a kid; you were probably worried about predators and stuff. You're a good mom."

"I still could have... I should have talked to you."

"You could have."

"I know." Regina sighs, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. "I panicked. I was starting to feel something, and I knew you were, too, and I wasn't ready -- I'm still not ready -- to be what you were looking for."

Emma blinks. Evidently, that wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "What I was looking for? I mean, yeah, I definitely felt something, but I didn't, like, expect that from you, you know?  I was just looking for you to be my friend."

Trying to choke back the lump in her throat that's grown to about the size of a golf ball, Regina whispers, "And are you still looking for a friend?" Knowing how desperate she sounds, she averts her eyes from Emma's face and tries not to cry.

 _This is your fault_ , she reminds herself. _And you deserve whatever she's about to say._

But to her surprise, Emma only shrugs in response. "I guess I am," she finally answers. "I mean, I showed up here today."

"Yes, you did."

"What about you?" she ventures. "Are _you_ looking for a friend?"

As Regina meets Emma's eyes, she thinks she feels her lips quirk upward into a smile. "If you'll have me," she says softly. "I can't promise I'll be a very good one."

"Well, yeah, me neither," Emma laughs. "Just ask Mary Margaret; I'm basically the worst friend ever, and I'm even worse at dating. Not...not that we're dating," she clarifies, starting to backtrack. "I mean, it's not that I wouldn't want to date you, but, like, we just started talking again, and if you're not comfortable with --"

"Emma, stop. It's all right. I understood what you meant."

Emma swallows and shakes her head. "I just...I really like you," she says quietly. "And I don't want either of us to get hurt."

"Emma..."

"And I know you've made it pretty clear you're not ready for anything romantic, and I don't need you to be anything besides my friend. But it's just, you know, if that road ever opens up, I want you to know that I _really_ like you."

"Thank you," Regina says, feeling tears start to form behind her eyes. She steps closer and takes Emma's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I... I'm still a mess, but you should know that I really like you, too. I just don't know when I'll be ready to actually do something about it."

Nodding her understanding, Emma shifts forward so their bodies are nearly touching, tightening her grip on Regina's hand. It's both highly charged and wholly comfortable, and Regina finds herself leaning into Emma's warmth, her breath catching as she marvels at the closeness she hasn't felt for so long.

Then Emma ruins the moment with a sudden cackle before blushing furiously. "Sorry, it's just... I read a lot of bad fics, and this is where the unexplainable passionate kissing always comes in."

"Tongues battling for dominance?" Regina quips, snickering. "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't think you want my germs."

"Yeah, no thanks. This is good for now."

Regina rocks onto her toes and presses a soft kiss on Emma's cheek. "Thank you for understanding," she says, just as Henry bursts into the room.

"Table's set!" he announces. "Are you ready for dinner?"

One hand still entwined with Emma's, Regina wraps her other arm around Henry and lets it rest there. For just a moment, she allows herself to imagine the possibility of a happily ever after with both of these people by her side.

It might be messy, she reflects. She's not ready for a relationship, and she and Henry still have so much healing to do together, and Emma... well, Emma has her own issues that she'll learn about soon enough. It won't be quick, and it won't be easy, but for once, she thinks she's strong enough to grab hold of the hope that's rising up around her.

This isn't a fairytale, and she doesn't need it to be.

Maybe that was the moral all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks: yes, there will be a third installment that will deal with the ending of "Shadowed Heart" and Henry's presentation. No, I have no idea when I will get a chance to write it. Feel free to contact me here or on Tumblr (into-themists) with any questions, concerns, or complaints. :)


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